


Demon's Travelogue

by icarus_chained



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Dresden Files - Jim Butcher, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Dialogue-Only, Gen, Humour, Multiple Crossovers, Prompt Fic, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three crossover conversations the demon Crowley had. Mobsters, watchmen and heroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Philosophical Concerns

**Author's Note:**

> For a meme whose terms were 'crossover conversations, dialogue only, no explanations necessary'.

*two figures stare in bemusement at a giant, red-headed man hunched in earnest conversation with a cheerful blond*

**Crowley:** ... On the one hand, that's possibly the funniest thing I've seen in at least a decade. On the other, _give me back my angel_ , dammit!

**Marcone:** *rubs his temples lightly* I would. I would honestly _like_ to escort both you gentlemen to the door. *smirks faintly at Crowley's huff* However, experience has taught me that, barring emergencies, it is often unwise to interrupt Hendricks midflow like this.

**Crowley:** *stares* Correct me if I'm wrong, here. But I thought _you_ were the boss in thissss outfit?

**Marcone:** *smiles blandly* Yes? And I had thought that angels and demons did not, traditionally, enjoy one another's company. *lets the smile take an edge* I could offer you a biblical quote, but it seems rather crass, under the circumstances. Lets simply say that some arrangements should not be scrutinised overly closely, shall we?

**Crowley:** *glares hotly for a second, before conceding with ill grace* Fine. So I don't poison my angel out of hand, and you don't interrupt the hired help in the middle of a philosophical debate that would do a Jesuit proud. Because _that's_ normal.

**Marcone:** *amused* Shall I quote Shakespeare now, too? There is that line from Hamlet ... 

**Crowley:** *sourly* Yes. And if the twit that said it hadn't been royalty, he'd have gotten a far different response, I'll bet you.

*they pause, as Aziraphale's voice rises sharply, and Hendricks lets out a little smile*

**Marcone:** He's doing rather well, isn't he? *thoughtful* Tell me. How are angels at losing gracefully, would you say?

**Crowley:** *raises eyebrow*

**Marcone:** *smiles thinly* Most of my experience with beings of your theological persuasion have been closer to your end of the scale. However, you do almost universally appear to ... hold grudges?

**Crowley:** *skims a glance over a scarred ear, looks away* Oh, he holds grudges, alright. *lightly* Four centuries, and the bastard won't let me forget the two salvations and a good deed I apparently owe him for accidentally getting him discorporated by a pissy greek god. *smiles faintly* He tends to favour passive-aggressive sniping and the odd touch of emotional blackmail, though. And not usually for a fair loss.

**Marcone:** *raises an eyebrow* Really. *staring heavily at the side of Crowley's face* So you'd say Hendricks has nothing to worry about?

**Crowley:** *grins snakily* Lets not get carried away, now. *smiles faintly* But he probably doesn't have to worry about waking up wandering the moors fantastically dressed in flowers. Just being pestered for the next decade or so until the discussion is settled to the angel's satisfaction.

**Marcone:** Hmm. *smiles like the flick of a knife* Thank you. It's very _considerate_ of you to reassure me.

**Crowley:** *glares* Thanks. No bloody good deed, I'm _telling_ you. *pause* Can I _please_ have my angel back now?

**Marcone:** *allows the faintest of smiles*


	2. Traffic Concerns

**Vimes:** *at some volume* You are a _bloody menace_! I've got half a farmyard blocking up Short Street, thanks to you! Do you have _any idea_ how much shit that means I have to clean up? *dangerously* And I'm not talking the metaphorical kind.

 **Crowley:** *grins darkly* I do love traffic jams. Best thing in the world for inciting casual violence in people, you know?

 **Vimes:** *darkly and dangerously* Oh, I know. And I'll be giving you a very _personal_ demonstration in a minute, if you don't start giving me a _very good_ explanation.

 **Crowley:** ... How do you feel about homesickness? Nostalgia? *at Vimes' rapidly approaching apoplexy* Not going for it, no?

 **Vimes:** *through gritted teeth* No. Not as such.

 **Crowley:** *smiles, somewhat genuinely* Sorry. Force of habit, really. Used to be the job, you know. Mischief and mayhem and the general tarnishing of souls. *shrugs* Of course, you lot are outside my jurisdiction, really. Which is most of why we're _here_. But. Old habits die hard?

 **Vimes:** *breathes carefully, narrows eyes* You're not human, are you?

 **Crowley:** *smiles thinly* Not even a little bit. If it's any consolation, though, I've always had a soft spot for the species.

 **Vimes:** ... Really? Because _I_ haven't. People. Nasty, small-minded little toerags, the lot of them. *with considerable pride* But that doesn't mean you get to mess with them. Not in _my_ city. You understand?

 **Crowley:** *blinks, smiles a lot more genuinely* They're nasty, baffling little things, but they're _your_ nasty, baffling little things? *grins* Now there's a concept I can get behind.

 **Vimes:** *sourly* So happy you agree with me.

 **Crowley:** *smirks* Lets not get carried away. But ... *smiles distantly* You look after your world, warts and all, right?

 **Vimes:** *smiles grimly* _Without_ causing a civil disturbance and _really annoying me_ , yes. 

**Crowley:** ... Small traffic jams? Once in a while? Aimed very specifically to cause maximum discomfort to the arrogant target of your choice?

 **Vimes:** *blinks at him in disbelief* You're really not getting this 'law and order' concept, are you?

 **Crowley:** *shrugs amiably* Not one of my better studies, no. But I can do you up a nice Temptation in two seconds flat.

 **Vimes:** *closes eyes* I will be nicely tempted to kick your arse for you in a minute.

 **Crowley:** *grinning cheerfully* See? It's working already!

 **Vimes:** *growls incoherently, and wishes powerfully for Carrot*


	3. Consequential Concerns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Touch of violence, this one.

**Tony:** *darkly, into a mostly-full glass of whiskey* And then I burned their world down. Because what kind of _idiot_ gives a weapons engineer the contents of an armoury to play with?

 **Crowley:** *with a not-very-nice smile* Yesss. Always be careful, picking someone to play silly buggers with. *nods slowly and carefully* Always sssensible, that.

 **Tony:** *squints at him* You know you tend to lisp when you're drunk? And I think your eyes didn't used to be that shade of yellow.

 **Crowley:** *shrugs casually* I ussssed to be a sssnake. *coughs, straightens blurrily* I mean, I used to be a snake. It was boring, so I stopped.

 **Tony:** *blinks slowly* ... You know, I've actually heard weirder. Not _much_ weirder, mind you. But. Still.

 **Crowley:** *side-eyes him* Should I be offended? Or worried?

 **Tony:** *grins faintly into his whiskey* Nah. Well. Okay. If a nice man turns into a rampaging green rage monster on you, don't pick a fight with him. Short of that, though, you should be okay.

 **Crowley:** *blinks long and slow, looks curiously down into his glass* Exactly how good _is_ this stuff? 

**Tony:** ... Good enough to mask the taste of metals in your throat. *grins, with all his teeth* Or nearly, anyway.

 **Crowley:** ... Yessss. *smiles sharply, and raises his glass to chink softly* To private hells, yesss? To private hells, and growing the limbsss you need to give them the finger.

 **Tony:** *thick, dark grin, to the chink of glass* Or building them. *flash of teeth* Building works too.

 **Crowley:** *smirks* It's not cheating 'til the bastards catch you at it. And it's too late then, so fuck 'em anyway.

 **Tony:** *snorts, grin* Amen to that!


End file.
